[On January 9th,
1978 Harvey Milk
was inaugurated to a seat on San Francisco’s Board of Supervisors, making him
one of America’s first openly gay
elected officials. So this week I’ll AmericanStudy Milk and other
historical moments and events in the early history of the Gay Rights Movement,
leading up to a weekend post on an impressive visual exhibit on the movement at
Fitchburg State University.]
On a key detail
that complicates the story of a gay rights leader’s tragic murder, and how the
overarching history holds in any case.
In November
1977, Harvey
Milk, running his third campaign for public office in San Francisco, was
elected to a seat as City Supervisor, becoming the first openly gay elected
official in California history (and one
of the first in American history as well). Milk’s rise paralleled
in many ways the emergence of a vibrant and vocal gay and bisexual
community in San Francisco’s Castro Street district (an area that came to be
known as The Castro),
and so as so often this individual leader’s story also helps us understand
collective and communal histories and experiences. Yet at the same time, we
can’t and shouldn’t discount the impressive individual ambition and courage it
took for Milk to run for elected office as an openly gay man in the 1970s. That
compelling individual story, along with a charismatic personality and
a strong voice, are what made Milk such an iconic figure, and why cultural
texts such as Gus Van
Sant’s 2008 film Milk (starring Sean Penn) continue to
engage with this unique and important American figure and story.
That story ended
tragically only 10 months after Milk’s inauguration (30 years ago today) to the
Board of Supervisors, with his November
1978 murder by former city supervisor Dan White. Given Milk’s iconic and
ground-breaking identity, it would be quite easy, if not inevitable, to imagine
that Milk was assassinated due to his identity as a gay man—and indeed, that had
always been my assumption about the murder and its motivations. But in looking
into Milk for this post, I learned that (at least as far as I can tell, and as
always corrections or additions in comments are very welcome!) the murder was something quite
different: White had stepped aside from the Board in order to pursue
opportunities in business, and when they failed and he attempted to return to
the Board, he was denied the ability to do so (on procedural grounds) by Mayor
George Moscone; White then snuck a gun into City Hall and killed first Moscone
and then Milk, whom he apparently saw as having collaborated with Moscone
to keep him off the Board (and maintain a slim progressive majority in the
process). Which is to say, the Moscone and Milk assassinations seem to be best
explained by a combination of a disgruntled former coworker and political
conflicts, none of which lessen the tragedy or horror but both of which are
distinct from Milk’s sexual identity and iconic status.
If that is
indeed the case with Milk’s murder (and again, please offer any additional or
alternative perspectives in comments, since I’m still learning about this topic
as I always am here), then it’s important that we remember those details, so as
not to misrepresent what took place in this particular historical moment (nor
to shoehorn it falsely into a narrative about Milk’s groundbreaking work and
life). But at the same time, it’s also important that we not use this tragic
end to Milk’s life to read back into or circumscribe that life and career more broadly—that
would be true even if he had been killed because of his sexuality, but it’s
even more the case if the killing was unrelated to that part of his identity.
That is, Milk’s charismatic and groundbreaking voice, his ambition and courage,
and the true significance of his electoral victory and year of office-holding
are the central elements of an iconic and important American life and story,
and remain key focal points on which our collective memories of the man and his
moment should focus. Remembering with accuracy and nuance are important goals,
but remembering our inspirational and ground-breaking figures and histories are
just as crucial, for the early gay rights movement as for every part of
American history.
Next history
tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What do you
think? Other histories or stories you’d highlight?
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